


aquaphoria

by adrianicsea



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: AU- William dates Logan instead of Juliet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Sex, Gen, M/M, Prequel- Takes place before the events of the show, Sex Between Trans Men, Slice of Life, Trans Male Character, lore expansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianicsea/pseuds/adrianicsea
Summary: Logan's life is good. He can't complain. He's got a good sister, a good boyfriend, and a great job, one that gives him power and status. In the face of all that, what's a few nightmares?





	aquaphoria

            Logan sighed to himself and leaned over the bridge’s railing, staring into the water below him as it lapped at the edge of the wooden boards at his feet. Raindrops slotted down between the beamed canopy over his head, plunking into his hair and onto his shoulders. The rain disturbed the surface of the water, too, turning the small duck pond into a churning sea of pitch. Even now, it made Logan’s chest feel constricted to look at it. The water always looked so dark and so deep at night.

            “Logan?”

            At the sound of William’s voice, Logan looked up from the water and took a step back from the railing. As William approached him, wearing a bemused smile, Logan flashed him a bright grin.

            “Heya there, Billy.”

            William rolled his eyes as he came to a stop next to Logan, but Logan noticed his smile grow wider.

            “Thought you’d gone home already,” William said. “What happened to ‘never be at work past sundown?’”

            “You’re here, too,” Logan pointed out. He leaned closer to William and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in so their sides collided. “Maybe you’re just rubbin’ off on me.”

            “I don’t think so,” William said, his gaze cast out over the water. He stepped closer into Logan’s embrace. “If that were true, you would have helped me file those reports today instead of leaving to talk to that tour group passing through.”

            Logan shrugged.

            “Hey, I’m the face of the company!”

            “And the worst coworker ever.”

            Logan quickly moved his hand down William’s back to grab his ass. William jumped with a yelp, and Logan laughed.

            “Please, you know you can’t resist me.”

            Once he had recovered, William swatted Logan’s hand away. Logan gave William an exaggerated pout, but just a moment later, he felt William’s hand in his, twining their fingers together.

            “Seriously, Low,” William murmured. He turned his attention back from the pond to look at Logan. “What are you doing out here?”

            Logan gave another shrug as he resisted the urge to pull his hand away; he was still getting used to William’s quaint need for such intimacies.

            “What, can’t a guy enjoy nature?” he asked. As if on cue, there came a quiet splash in the water and the sound of rustling feathers. Logan stepped closer to the railing again, pulling William along with him, and nodded to indicate the small family of mallard ducks swimming in the pond. If the rain bothered them, they showed no sign of it. Logan felt William’s shoulders slump against him and smiled to himself—even without looking, he knew William had that dopey, dreamy smile on his face.

“They are pretty cute, huh?” William asked. “I come out here to eat lunch with them sometimes.”

            Logan huffed.

            “Of course you do.”

            Then the two of them were quiet. There on the rooftop garden, the noise of cars from the streets below was distant, scarcely audible over the sound of the wind whistling between the tall buildings that surrounded them. The patter of the rain muffled the world around them even more, until Logan felt almost like the world began and ended right there with William and the duck pond. As the ducks swam and played in the water, Logan slowly leaned his head over to rest it on William’s shoulder.

            “Look at that one,” William breathed. He nodded and raised his free hand to point at one of the ducks as it swam. It was smaller than the others, and its feathers were curiously mottled in a way that the other ducks’ weren’t.

            “What about it?” Logan asked.

            “It must be a growing baby,” William said. “Its adult feathers are starting to come in…”

            “Bullshit,” Logan softly replied. Then, after a second: “How can you tell?”

            Logan felt William’s jawline press into his hair as William cuddled closer.

            “Look at his neck. He’s starting to grow his collar, see?”

            Logan scrutinized the duckling. The dark and the rain made it difficult to see, but after some squinting, Logan picked out a scruffy, yet distinct white ring around the duckling’s neck, nestled amidst all the brown feathers.

            “Funny,” William said. “Right now, it’s kind of hard to tell if he’s a boy or a girl.”

            Logan swallowed as he stared at the duckling. It swam away from its parents, and suddenly, Logan was worried about it. What if it got lost? Would it be okay without its mom and dad? Did it know how deep the water was? What if it forgot how to swim? What if it sank to the bottom of the pond, and every time it tried to swim back up, the rain made the pond even deeper?

            “Yeah,” Logan said. He stood up straight and dropped William’s hand. “Funny.”

            William turned to look at Logan, his eyebrows drawing together as his mouth pulled to one side.

            “Logan?”

            Logan flashed William an empty grin and leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

            “I’ve been cooped up in this place too long,” he explained as he pulled away. “Time to go home.”

            Logan turned and began to walk off the bridge, towards the garden’s exit. He would have kept right on walking, but then William called out behind him.

            “Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

            Shit. Logan had nearly forgotten. He paused and took a moment to breathe, before turning around to give William a grin and a wink.

            “C’mon, Billy, you know I never skip free food.”

            Logan could see the lines of worry creasing William’s face, but they softened somewhat as William smiled and nodded.

            “Okay,” he said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

            “See ya.”

            Logan turned and walked out of the garden before William could stop him again.

* * *

 

            That night, Logan had the drowning nightmare. As far as nightmares went, that one was fine—Logan had had it so often that it was almost bearable to get through. This time, he was watching the scene as it unfolded, a silent observer to his own memories. He watched as his father grabbed him by the armpits and hurled him over the pool’s edge. His young body slapped against the water’s surface with a loud splash, and Logan winced despite himself as he watched. For a long time, he didn’t come up; Logan clenched his fists at his sides and held his breath as he watched his younger self flail, a dark distorted shape in the clear blue water. When his head finally broke the surface, his younger self gasping for air, his father stepped closer and knelt down next to him.

            “You’ve got to learn to hold your breath longer than _that,_ Abigail.”

            Then Logan’s father grabbed his long hair and shoved him back under, and Logan jolted awake in bed. He took a moment to catch his breath, panting quietly in the dark of his bedroom as he stared at the digital clock at his nightstand. It informed him that it was half past two; Logan relaxed just a bit. That meant he could still get some more sleep before he had to get up, assuming he _could_ fall asleep again. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before pushing back his covers, preparing to get up—

            Logan froze as he stared down at himself. Something wasn’t right. He gritted his teeth, his jaw tense, as he reached out to turn on his bedside lamp. Low golden light filled the room, spilling across Logan’s naked body. His free hand gripped desperately at his sheets as he resisted the urge to gag. His chest, it was—it was all gone, all wrong, the way it was before—

            “No,” Logan whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. “No, no, nonono--”

            As his panic rose within him, Logan began thrashing on his sheets, but as hard as he tried to scream out, he found his voice had suddenly failed him.

            “No, no, please, no, help me, please…”

            Logan suddenly snapped awake, the word “no” still fresh on his lips. Frantic with the memory of his nightmare, the first thing he did was rove his hands down his body beneath the sheets, feeling for the features he’d given up so much to have. When he was met with a smooth flat plane, Logan shuddered in equal parts relief and fear. Still, he was quick to throw back the blankets and turn on the lamp to study himself. This time, as the light filtered across him, Logan was relieved to see that everything was as it should be: his chest and its faded pencil-line scars, the small pseudo-cock testosterone had given him that he loved too much to extend.

            Logan wrapped his blankets around himself once more and settled down to try and sleep, though he left the lamp turned on. It took him a lot of tossing and turning, but eventually, he calmed down enough to fall asleep again, and this time he was too exhausted to dream.

* * *

 

            The next morning found Logan sprawled out in bed, sleeping like a rock. When he finally came awake, it was to the feeling of sunlight streaming through the wall of floor-length windows and across his back. He blinked awake and yawned as he slowly rolled over to look at the clock. 10:30, it read, and Logan smiled to himself. There was nothing better than sleeping in on a Sunday. Still, he _did_ have places to be that day, so he rolled out of bed and strolled across the wide-open room to his wardrobe. He picked out a blue V-neck shirt, along with some grey boxers and a pair of black leather pants—it had been awhile since Logan had had the pleasure of dressing casually. Logan laid his clothes out on his bed, careful to avoid wrinkling them, before turning and walking towards the bathroom, still stark naked. No point getting dressed when he was only headed for the shower, after all.

            After a long, leisurely shower and a similarly relaxed breakfast of French toast and bacon, a now fully-dressed Logan finally turned his thoughts to the outside world.

            “Leto, you up?” he called out to the empty lounge, as he sat at his marble kitchen counter.

            “Good morning, Logan,” Leto answered. Logan watched the small home assistant on the counter light up as Leto’s soft, high voice filled the room. “How can I help you?”

            “Is Jules busy today?”

            Leto’s monitor shifted to display a moving ellipses.

            “Hold on, I’ll check her public schedule.”

            As Leto worked on that, Logan ambled over to his fridge and studied his reflection in its polished black chrome. Seeing a stray hair fallen out of place, Logan wrinkled his nose and frowned as he pushed it back where it belonged.

            “It doesn’t look like Juliet has any public plans today, Logan.”

            Logan smiled and turned back to face the direction of Leto’s voice.

            “Thank you, Leto.”

            “Do you want me to call Juliet for you?”

            “Nah.”

            Logan walked towards his penthouse door and paused to slip on a pair of sleek designer street shoes he kept nearby. Once they were on, and the laces automatically tightened, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He paused for a moment and turned back to call, “Be good while I’m gone, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

            As Logan closed the door behind him, he heard Leto laugh.

            The hallway leading from Logan’s penthouse door to the elevators was dark and light all at once, with its black tile floors and wall-embedded light panels. As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the building’s upper magnarail station, Logan turned to examine the view from the elevator’s one glass wall. Outside, the city gleamed in the daylight, nearly bright enough to hurt. It was a busy day—but then, it always was. Magnarails whizzed by through the air, while down below, the streets were crowded with people and cars. The sky was a pale, yellowy-blue, though it was hard to make out much of it between all the skyscrapers.

            “Magnarail Station Alpha,” came the voice of the elevator. “Going down.”

            Logan turned his back on the city and walked into the station. This one wasn’t as crowded as the building’s lower station, as it was reserved for the people who could afford to live on the higher levels. Near the loading platform, Logan paused at a scanner and produced his ID card from his wallet. The scanner read his ID and flashed a green light, leaving him free to continue to the platform undisturbed.

            He didn’t have to wait very long before the magnarail arrived, a long, sleek chain of train cars suspended in midair and following the guide rail above them by magnetic bond. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss of air, and once a small handful of people disembarked, Logan stepped onto one of the cars. He was pleased to see that he had it all to himself.

            The train only waited for a minute or two before the doors slid shut and the rail hummed to life. As the train smoothly pulled out of the station and into the open air of the city, Logan took a seat in one of the train car’s plush black benches and pulled out his phone. It took him no time at all to pull up Jules’ number—she was one of his favorite contacts, alongside William, his aunt Adonia, and his father, although the latter was more for the sake of convenience than anything else. Logan pressed the holo-call button beneath Jules’ name and stuck his phone back into his pocket, instead raising his wrist. In just a moment, Juliet answered the call.

            “Logan?” Her expression was one of puzzlement and slight annoyance as the projection of her face sprang forth from Logan’s watch. “What do you want?”

            “Ouch,” Logan said, and he gave an exaggerated pout. “Is that any way to greet your sweet baby brother?”

            Juliet rolled her eyes as Logan laughed.

            “Fine,” she said, “Forgive me. How are you today, my dear Logan?”

            “Better since I’m talking to you,” Logan said. He gave Juliet a gentle smile, and her expression softened, as well.

            “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too,” she said. “Where are you right now? I’m taking a break from editing today, if you’re free to—”

            “I already know. I asked Leto this morning and she said you weren’t doing anything.”

            “Oh, did she?” Juliet frowned, her lips pursed. “You know, maybe all those thinkpieces are right about how invasive Leto is.”

            “C’mon, Jules, we _made_ Leto.”

            “Exactly. So we _know_ how invasive she is.”

            Logan puffed out his cheeks as he blew a large sigh.

            “Look, whatever,” he said. “Point is, I’m on the rail over to your place, so you better have lunch waiting when I get there.”

            Juliet did her best to look annoyed, but Logan could tell by the slight twitch in her cheek that she didn’t really mean it.

            “Fine,” she said, and her mouth finally cracked into a smile. “See you soon, Low.”

            Logan winked at her projection.

            “See ya soon, Jules,” he crooned. Juliet scoffed, and then her projection dissipated as she ended the call. Logan smiled to himself as he raised his head again, watching the skyline of the city blow by outside the train.

* * *

 

            “I don’t know why you insist on living in such a bohemian apartment,” Logan drawled twenty minutes later, as he lay back across Juliet’s simple suede couch and propped his feet on her coffee table.

            “Do you know what bohemian means?” Juliet asked. She picked up Logan’s socked feet and slid two marble-tile coasters in their place. Logan huffed in amusement and set his heels down on the coasters as Juliet continued, “Just because I don’t live in a big glass penthouse like you do doesn’t mean I’m bohemian. Compared to the places where _normal_ people live—”

            Logan reached forward to place a hand on Juliet’s arm. She stilled and looked at him, and he tilted his head with a grin.

            “Relax, Jules,” he said. “Just teasin’.”

            Juliet sighed, but her jaw remained set, even as her eyes softened a bit.

            “Sorry,” she said. “Editing’s been a bitch lately.”

            “Wanna talk about it?”

            “You wanna _listen_ to it?”

            Logan nodded as he looked up at Juliet from his place on the couch. From this angle, she looked even taller than usual—even when Logan hit six feet in high school, Juliet had still towered over him.

            “Of course I do,” Logan softly said. “You know I love your stories.”

            Logan was pleased to see Juliet finally relax her jaw.

            “Thanks, Low,” she said. “But first, do you want some coffee or anything? Aunt Adonia sent me some _melomakarona_ the other day—”

            Within seconds, Logan was on his feet and heading for Juliet’s kitchen.

            “You take it easy, Jules!” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll make the coffee, don’t worry.”

            Logan heard Juliet laugh behind him as he entered the kitchen. Compared to his own, it was less spacious, although perhaps that was simply because it wasn’t an open plan. All of the counters and appliances were much closer together, with the exception of a single island counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area which also occupied the room. The island was covered in post-it notes and index cards, which Logan had the good sense to ignore—Juliet had never liked it when he tried to read her work without her permission. Instead, he beelined for the large plate of cookies sitting on the island and picked one up. It was a bit sticky in his hand, and bits of chopped walnut fell onto the plate below.

            “I can’t believe she sent you all of these and didn’t send _me_ any,” Logan called back to the living room. He took a bite of the cookie and groaned as the taste of honey and orange filled his mouth, along with a slight edge of brandy. “I mean, what the hell? It’s not even close to Christmas!”

            “Well, you know how Adonia is about the arts, Logan,” came Juliet’s response. “Maybe she’d send _you_ cookies if you took up painting or something.”

            “Whatever,” Logan grumbled to himself. He headed over to Juliet’s Keurig machine and began making two mugs of coffee—one dark hazelnut roast for Jules, and a French vanilla light roast for himself. Once the coffees were ready, Logan took a moment to dump a generous spoonful of sugar into his mug. On his way back to the living room, he grabbed two more cookies for good measure, too. He returned to find that Juliet had seated herself in the leather armchair beside her couch, where she sat with her long legs folded up beneath her.

            “Here,” Logan said. He smiled at her and set her coffee on one of the coasters, then handed her one of the cookies. She nodded and thanked him softly as he resumed his seat on the couch and dipped his own cookie in his coffee.

            “So,” Juliet began, once she had polished off her cookie and taken a few sips of her coffee. Logan sat at rapt attention, nibbling on his own coffee-soaked cookie as Juliet spoke.

            “Basically, this agent told me he doesn’t think it’s realistic that five gay people would be friends—”

            “What?” Logan frowned and wrinkled his nose. “Has he been outside? Is it 2015 again or something?”

            “Right?!” Juliet sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand as she gripped her coffee mug with the other. “And like—I guess it’s totally realistic that my protagonist is the human avatar of the Grim Reaper, so _that’s_ fine, but God forbid there be multiple gay characters!”

            “That’s bullshit,” Logan agreed. He took another drink of his coffee before setting the mug on the table and moving to lie down on the couch. “So what are you gonna do? You can’t just listen to him…”

            “Oh, I won’t.” Jules clenched the handle of her mug in a fist as her dark gaze turned steely. “I’ve made it very clear to him that there are other publishers who would be very interested in this manuscript, and I’ve reminded him that I am, in fact, Juliet _Delos_.”

            Logan grinned and raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in Juliet’s demeanor.

            “Thought you hated throwing the family name around like that.”

            Juliet shrugged and gave Logan a smirk that was nearly identical to his own.

            “Well, I hate bigots more. Fuck that guy.”

            Logan laughed and picked up his mug again to raise it in a toast.

            “Fuck that guy,” he repeated.

            “Anyways,” Juliet said with a sigh, and just like that, she was back to her usual, subdued self. “Thanks for listening, Low.”

            “Anytime,” Logan said with a smile. Juliet smiled back at him.

            “Oh! Since you’re here,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask…”

            Logan rolled his eyes at the wheedling tone that had entered Juliet’s voice. This was always his least favorite part of relationships. Sure enough, the next thing out of Juliet’s mouth was:

            “How are things with William?”

            Logan forced a smile over his coffee.

            “He’s good,” Logan said. “We’re good. Haven’t gotten him to put out yet, but—”

            “Oh, fuck off.”

            Logan pulled a scowl of offense as Juliet regarded him with a skeptical stare.

            “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Logan, I know he’s not just a fling.”

            Logan sighed, his bravado deflated. He sat up on the couch and pulled his knees back towards his chest to curl up tight onto one cushion.

            “Billy’s really good,” Logan said, softer this time. “He invited me over to his place for dinner tonight, actually…”

            “Yeah?” Logan chanced another look in Juliet’s direction, and he found her watching him with a warm smile. “That’s really sweet, Logan. I’m glad things are working out—how long’s it been, anyways?”

            “Two and a half months on Thursday,” Logan answered automatically. Juliet whistled in response, and Logan muttered a quick “fuck _off_ , Jules” as he felt his face heat up.

            “I will _not_ fuck off,” Juliet retorted. “It’s nice seeing you like this.”

            Despite his embarrassment, Logan couldn’t help feeling curious, too.

            “Like what?”

            Juliet shrugged and gestured to Logan, waving her hand around in a vague gesture.

            “Just… happy. Doing the whole ‘committed relationship’ thing.”

            “Yeah, okay.” Logan scratched at the back of his neck and turned his face away from Juliet. “Enough with the big sister bit, I get it…”

            “You love it.”

            Logan laughed, but it was gentler than his usual laughter.

            “Maybe I do.”

            He sighed and stared into his coffee, watching it as though its smooth, sand-colored surface could tell him something. As Juliet meandered back into another well-founded complaint against her agent, Logan realized his coffee was the color of William’s hair, and the realization made him smile to himself.

* * *

 

            After an hour or two of hanging out, Juliet good-naturedly pushed Logan out the door, explaining that as much as she loved visiting with him, she really had to get back to her writing. It was only three in the afternoon, still three hours before William had told Logan to show up for dinner. Normally, Logan would have used the time to visit some of his other connections, but today, for some reason, he found he didn’t want to spend the afternoon schmoozing. Instead, he caught the magnarail back to his place and spent some time working on contracts and paperwork. Just so William would finally get off his back about pulling his own weight in the office.

            By five o’clock, the sun had slunk low into the sky, setting the skyscrapers ablaze in a shimmering sea of orange and white and throwing long, burnt shadows into Logan’s penthouse as the sky began threatening to purple like a bruise. His paperwork set aside, Logan chewed his lip as he looked at William’s address on his phone. It looked like William lived in Old Town—there wouldn’t be a magnarail leading directly to his place, something about “historical preservation of the architecture.” The nearest station was twenty minutes from William’s apartment. Logan headed out his apartment door and back down the elevator to the magnarail station, antsy to begin the journey—for once, he didn’t want to show up fashionably late.

            After a quarter hour spent switching magnarails, Logan’s train journey finally ended at one of the stations on the periphery of the Old Town district. On the magnarails, Logan had flirted with the idea of finishing the trip to William’s by subway or cab, but when Logan saw Old Town, he decided on the spot to walk instead. The station was surrounded by massive oak trees and a park, full of flowers and families playing with their children and their dogs. Logan hadn’t seen anything like it since he was a kid. He took off down the street towards William’s apartment with an unusual eagerness in his step.

            Down every street and around every corner, Logan was met with another row of old, shady trees, another barrel planter, another locally-owned business that still had wood or brick framing. As for the houses themselves, they were all majestic in their size and age, even with their rusted fences or their mossy cobblestone walkways. It was all very… Charming. Comforting. Logan found himself feeling guilty for all the snide remarks he’d made about Old Town in the past.

            The evening air was beginning to turn a bit brisk, so Logan was relieved when he finally reached William’s apartment building, a large square of aged red brick. William lived on the third floor—Logan waited on the elevators for a good minute or two, but when neither one arrived, he decided to take the stairs instead. It was five minutes to six, and Logan didn’t want to leave William waiting.

            When he finally reached his destination, Logan knocked on the dark wood of William’s apartment door and then rocked back and forth on his heels, studying the thatched welcome mat that lay at his feet. After a few seconds of rocking, he palmed at his phone in his jeans pocket and considered calling William, or at least knocking on the door again. Logan had just begun pulling out his phone when the door swung open. There stood William, wearing a collared khaki sweater and a warm smile.

            “Hey, you made it!”

            Logan grinned at William and reached out one hand towards him. William watched, his brows knitted in confusion, as Logan took a handful of the sweater’s collar. Before William could figure out what he was doing, Logan tugged, enough to make William stumble over the threshold and come to a stop flush against his body. Logan caught him easily and wrapped his other hand around William’s waist as he pressed their lips together.

            “Hi, Billy,” Logan mumbled into William’s mouth. He felt the rumble of William’s answer, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, resound in his throat. It only made him smile wider. Still, William pulled away from the kiss a moment later—far too soon for Logan’s liking.

            “Would you like to come inside first?” William asked, his blue eyes squinting in an expression that was equally likely to be annoyance or amusement. Logan nodded and leaned in to press another, slightly gentler kiss to the corner of William’s mouth.

            “Please,” Logan said. William smiled and extricated himself from Logan’s grasp, then reached back to hold Logan’s hand and tug him back over the threshold.

            As Logan stepped into William’s apartment, the first thought he had was that it really _was_ bohemian, or at least very quaint. All of the furniture looked as though it was from the late 2000s at the latest, and every bit of it showed the sort of wear or clutter that spoke to a lifestyle Logan had never lived. Still, as alien as it was to Logan, he found himself instantly charmed by the atmosphere of the cozy living room—it felt warm in a way the family mansion, or Logan’s own penthouse, never had.

            “You can take your shoes off here, if you want.” William nodded down towards the small shoe rack by the door, where Logan saw an equal mix of smart black and brown dress shoes and beat-up old Converse and skate shoes in a rainbow of colors. “Or if you’d rather leave them on, that’s fine too.”

            Logan toed out of his shoes and left them lined up neatly next to a pair of faded sunflower-patterned Vans. Once he was left in his socks, Logan raised his head to give William an expectant look. “Well? You gonna show me around or what?”

            “Oh!” William looked almost startled by the suggestion, and Logan realized all at once that William was nervous. “Of course. C’mon, it won’t take long—” William reached down to take Logan’s hand again.

            “This is the living room,” William said, gesturing with his free hand to the room before them. Logan smiled to himself as he studied it. The couch had a faded floral pattern on it—once upon a time, it had probably looked kitschy, but age had refined it into something that looked comfortable, instead. There was a low, heavy-looking pinewood table sitting before the couch, and between all the books and candles strewn across it, Logan thought he could make out a few stained rings on the table. There was a relatively modern-looking TV resting on another heavy pinewood entertainment center, and past that, a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony. In the fading violet light outside, Logan spotted some sort of pink plant in a terra cotta flowerpot.

            “It’s cute,” Logan said, and he turned to smile at William. “Not what I’m used to.”

            “No?” William raised an eyebrow. “I know it’s no penthouse…”

            “Relax,” Logan said. He leaned in to nip at William’s neck, and as he felt William’s skin flush beneath his lips, he mumbled, “I like it.”

            “O-okay,” William breathed. Logan snickered to himself as he pulled away to see William giving him a very wide and uncertain smile.

            “C’mon.” Logan nudged his shoulder against William’s. “Where’s everything else?”

            “Well…” William first took Logan around the corner of the living room. There was a wide, open doorway Logan hadn’t noticed before, one that led into a warmly-lit and cheerful kitchen. From what Logan could see, all of the towelettes and baking jars on the counters were themed after roosters. There was even a rooster-patterned oven mitt hanging from the oven door.

            “This is the kitchen,” William said. “And over there’s the dining table…”

            He turned them around to nod at a small, circular wooden table that sat tucked into the corner of the living room area. This table was laid with a simple yellow tablecloth and further adorned by a small blue vase containing a single daffodil. There were three plain cushioned wooden chairs gathered around the table. It was so different from anything Logan had ever known, and if it had been anyone’s apartment but William’s, he might have found it tacky.

            “The, ah, rest of it is back this way.” William gently tugged on Logan’s hand, and Logan followed William as he led him back into the living room and down a hallway next to the TV center.

            “This first door is the bathroom,” William said as they walked, “and the next one’s just a closet.” Finally, they reached the end of the hall, and William stopped them before one last closed door.

            “And this is my bedroom.”

            Logan dropped William’s hand and stepped closer to him, wrapping his arms around William’s waist. He leaned in and tucked his chin into William’s shoulder to rest his head there.

            “Aren’t you gonna show me?” Logan murmured. William leaned into Logan’s touch and tilted his head back to rest it against Logan’s, but he made a noncommittal hum in his throat.

            “Maybe,” William said.

            “Maybe?”

            William’s eyes met Logan’s, and with a grin, he turned his head to kiss Logan’s cheek.

            “Ask me again after dinner.”

            William squirmed out of Logan’s grasp and turned to walk back down the hall. Logan, for his part, was not too proud to audibly whine as he followed suit.

            “You’re no fun, you know that?” he said. William shrugged and didn’t turn around as he headed back into the living room and turned into the kitchen once more. Logan’s eyes flickered to the dining table in the corner, but after a moment, he decided to follow William into the kitchen. “What are we having, anyways?”

            Instead of answering his question, William opened the fridge door and picked up a tray from the shelf. When he turned around with the tray in hand, Logan saw it was some kind of fish.

            “Gonna sear up this salmon,” William answered. “I’m also baking some potatoes with garlic, and there’s a quinoa salad in the fridge…”

            “Oh-ho, Billy! I didn’t know you had such a refined palate.” Logan leaned in over the tray to give William a quick peck on the cheek. William shifted his grip on the tray, freeing one hand to reach out and tuck a bit of Logan’s hair back behind his ear.

            “Yeah, I learned it from watching you.”

            William pulled away to set the tray of salmon on the counter, and Logan hopped up to sit on another open bit of counterspace with a smile. Kicking his legs idly back and forth, he watched as William produced a skillet from a tray beneath his oven and set to work on the fish.

            “Or, more accurately,” William continued, “I learned it from you bullying me at all of those company dinner parties.”

            Logan shrugged, even though William wasn’t looking at him, and lightly gripped the edge of the countertop as he swayed his legs.

            “Well, when I told you nicely, you never remembered,” Logan retorted. “And I just didn’t want you to make yourself look bad.”

            “No, you didn’t want me to make the _company_ look bad.”

            William turned from his sizzling pan of fish to look at Logan, as if for confirmation of his statement. Logan wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue at William in response.

            “Right,” William said with a laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

            The kitchen fell quiet, aside from the sizzle of the fish in the pan. Logan got bored of kicking his legs and started tapping his fingertips against the counter instead.

            “You could help, if you want,” William said, keeping his concentration on the fish. “I already mixed up the garlic rub for the potatoes, they just need to be rubbed and wrapped so we can bake them.”

            Logan was about to make some smarmy comeback, something about how the Delos family was above cooking their own meals, but something about the warm, modest air in William’s house made him change his mind. Or perhaps, he mused, he simply felt guilty beneath the judging eyes of all the rooster decorations. Logan hopped down from the counter.

            “Where are they?”

            William tilted his head in the direction of the fridge.

            “The rub’s in a bowl on the third shelf, and the potatoes are in the bottom bin. Thank you, sweetheart.”

            After digging them out of the fridge, Logan set the bowl and the potatoes on the counter where he’d been sitting, safely out of William’s view. It really had been a long time since he’d cooked anything more complicated than breakfast for himself, and doing it with William made the task feel all the more stressful.

            “The tin foil’s in the drawer beside you,” William said, as if that were the issue at hand. Logan grunted in acknowledgement and pulled the drawer open for the foil, but even once he had it, he still didn’t move. A moment later, he jumped as he felt William press up against his back.

            “Everything okay?” William asked, his sharp chin resting on Logan’s shoulder.

            “It’s fine,” Logan said quickly. “I’m just… not used to making food like this, that’s all. We don’t bake potatoes in Greece.”

            “Your father is Scottish,” William pointed out. Logan scoffed.

            “And? Pops wasn’t exactly hangin’ around to give us cooking lessons growing up.”

            William didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he nuzzled his nose against the side of Logan’s neck and gently took his hands in his own. Logan watched in curiosity as, guided by William, he picked up a potato and dipped it into the bowl, gently rolling it back and forth in the mixture of salt and pepper and olive oil.

            “And when it’s good and soaked, you just wrap it in tin foil,” William said. “That’s all.”

            “Cool,” Logan said, his cheeks flushed. He couldn’t help wondering when he’d gotten this way, when making dinner became scarier and more intimate than sex, but he quickly decided it was easier and much less concerning to blame the foreign tightness in his chest on William. William, whose gentle fingers still covered Logan’s own; William, whose pale arms ran in conjunction with Logan’s; William, whose right forearm had a faded, but distinctive rectangular patch of scarred skin on it.

            Wait.

            Logan blinked as he studied the scar on William’s arm. He remembered seeing scars like that years ago in his research, before he’d decided against getting anything more than a hysterectomy. But that meant—

            “William?” Logan asked. He turned to look into William’s eyes, and when he had to go nearly cross-eyed to do it, William released his grip and took a step back.

            “What’s up?”

            Logan opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t just _ask_ —that would be rude, even if William already knew Logan was trans himself. Maybe he could ask about the scar and how William got it? That was less invasive, Logan supposed, although the question was no less pointed. It was a very distinctive scar pattern.

            As William kept staring at Logan, his expression grew more puzzled, and Logan finally offered him a wide, empty smile.

            “You have nice arms,” he said. William huffed a gentle breath of laughter as he turned back to the pan, ready to cook the next piece of salmon.

            “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Logan,” William said, though Logan thought his tone begged to differ. “The sooner you get those potatoes wrapped, the sooner we can eat.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” As Logan wrapped up the first potato, the one William had helped him with, the question he hadn’t asked echoed in his head:

            _You’re like me?_

* * *

 

            All told, it took about an hour for the salmon and the potatoes to finish cooking. Logan’s nerves had dissipated as he got the hang of wrapping the potatoes, and all the while, William buzzed with a quiet, but highly infectious good mood.

            “Low, would you set the table?” William asked, sparing Logan a quick glance over his shoulder as he finished the last of the fish on the stove.

            “You’re the host, not me,” Logan retorted. “Shouldn’t you be setting the table?”

            “Well, I guess so, but it’ll take longer,” William said. “Shame we didn’t have time to see the bedroom. I guess it’ll have to wait until next time…”

            Logan harrumphed and began opening William’s cabinet doors until he found the dishes.

            “Are these okay?” he asked, picking up a cream-colored porcelain plate and holding it out for William to see. William gave the plate a once-over and then nodded. Logan took it, along with one other plate and a pair of wine glasses, over to the table in the corner, before making a return trip for the silverware. When that was done, Logan came back to the kitchen to find William turning off the stove and finally plating the salmon.

            “About time,” Logan said. “I’m starving.”

            “Don’t be a baby, it wasn’t that long.” William nodded in the direction of the fridge. “If you wanna get the salad and wine out, I’ll start taking everything else to the table.”

            Logan waited for William to carry the salmon out of the crowded kitchen before he opened the fridge door again. The salad was easy to find, and there was one bottle of wine amongst the others that was clearly more expensive than its peers—Logan assumed that was probably the one William had intended for their dinner. He picked up the bottle and brought it to the table, where William had already set out the salmon and potatoes.

            “Thanks,” William said as he took a seat at the table. After Logan set down his things, he spent a moment debating, before moving his plate from the seat across the table to the seat right next to William. William looked surprised, judging by the way he blinked, but he broke into a smile as Logan sat down beside him.

            “Can’t remember the last time I’ve had a homemade dinner like this,” Logan said. He chuckled, perhaps just a bit nervously, as William began doling out the salad and potatoes between their two plates.

            “Oh, yeah?” William asked.

            “Usually I’m out at some boring five-star restaurant with some boring five-star Silicon Valley tech-bros.”

            “Only you would call a five-star restaurant boring.” William laughed as he finished with the food and began pouring the wine. Logan shrugged and grinned at William.

            “Those places are a dime a dozen,” he said. “Not like this.”

            Logan was pleased to see William’s face go nearly the same shade of pink as the Moscato filling their glasses. Logan took his glass by the stem and reached over to clink it against William’s glass, still sitting on the table.

            “Here’s to us,” Logan murmured. “And to this salmon tasting as good as it looks.”

            “To us,” William echoed, as he picked up his own glass. “And don’t let me stop you—go ahead, let’s eat.” He nudged his elbow into Logan’s side and gave him a wink.

            “The sooner we finish dinner, the sooner you can come see my bedroom.”

            Logan perked up that, pausing with his fork in midair as he stared at William.

            “Really?”

            William laughed and nodded.

            “C’mon, Logan,” he said. “You knew I wasn’t gonna turn you down if that’s what you wanted.”

            And maybe part of Logan _had_ known that—but with William, he didn’t like being presumptuous, mostly because William never let him get away with it. So he just nodded and flashed William a grin.

            “That’s what I want,” he said.

            “Alright,” William answered. “But dinner first.”

            Logan nodded and raised a forkful of salmon to his mouth. The flesh easily tore away and almost melted in his mouth, and it was all Logan could do not to moan aloud.

            “Jesus FUCK, Billy,” he said, once he’d swallowed the bite of fish. “Where the hell did you learn to cook like that?”

            William laughed.

            “That’s my secret,” he said. “Keep coming over here, and maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

            Logan leaned over to press a kiss to William’s cheek.

            “Done.”

* * *

 

            William’s bedroom had walls painted chocolate and a carpet as thick and soft as cream, with a color to match. Logan sighed and felt his shoulders drop as he entered the room, as if all the tension had drained out of them. As William closed the door behind them, Logan stepped further into the room to examine it. There was a bookshelf tucked into one corner, just as densely populated as the other shelves in the living room, and William’s dresser had a few books stacked on top of it, along with—

            “Holy shit,” Logan said, and he stepped closer to examine it. “Is this a turntable?”

            “Mhmm.” William came over to stand next to Logan, leaning slightly against him as he regarded the turntable. Logan thought it looked old, but not _vintage_ old—it looked like the kind they’d sold in malls when Logan was a kid, back when vinyl had first come back into fashion. The record mat had a forest landscape stamped on it, but held no record; it was then Logan noticed a wooden record crate next to the dresser that was densely packed with albums. Distracted from his quest to get into William’s bed, Logan dropped to his knees to flip through the records. Behind him, he heard William laugh, followed by the soft rustle of what he assumed was William taking a seat on his bed.

            “You can play something, if you see anything you like.”

            “Cool,” Logan said. “How long have you had this thing?”

            “Got it in high school,” William answered. “I’ve always liked vinyl more than digital…”

            Logan paused on a Spoon record and turned to look at William with an eyebrow raised in faux surprise.

            “Billy, you mean you’re _old-fashioned?”_ he asked. “I never would have guessed!”

            “Yeah, yeah.” William laughed as he leaned back on the bed, bracing himself with his arms outstretched behind his back. “If that’s how you feel about it, maybe I _won’t_ let you play it—”

            “Hey, no!” Logan pouted and batted his eyelashes at William. “I think it’s cool.” He sighed and returned his attention to the record crate. “Pops collects vinyl, too. Never let me or Jules touch ‘em, though, not even when we got older…”

            William didn’t say anything in response to that, and for once, Logan didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Instead, he kept thumbing through William’s records, smiling to himself at how well-worn some of the covers were. Some of them _were_ vintage old—Logan was met with a copy of Abbey Road that looked like it might disintegrate if he picked it up, so he carefully flipped past it.

            “If you’re not gonna pick something, might I make a recommendation?” William asked.

            “Go for it.”

            “There’s an album in there somewhere that’s got a crow holding some red string on it.”

            Logan kept digging into the crate until he found the record and pulled it from its place.

            “Death Cab For Cutie?” he read, and he turned to give William another skeptical look. “I would have bullied you if I’d known you when we were kids.”

            William shrugged, clearly unbothered. “You bullied me when we first met, and that was a year ago. Just put it on! You might even like it.”

            Logan rolled his eyes, but he stood up with the album in hand. He was careful as he slid the record out of its sleeve and set it on the mat. After only a second’s hesitation, he picked up the needle and carefully dropped it on the edge of the record as it spun. There was a bit of quiet hissing and popping, and then the sound of cymbals and mellow guitars filled the room.

            Logan replaced the album sleeve in its place and turned to finally study William’s bed—which, he thought, looked even better with William sitting on it. The bed was covered by a thick, quilted comforter that was mostly cream, with geometric accents of brown and orange stretching across it.

            “Care to join me?” William asked. He crawled up the bed so he could fully stretch out and lie down. Logan didn’t need a second invitation. Almost instantly, he was sprawled on the blankets next to William, taking his jaw and pulling him in to kiss him.

* * *

 

            They kissed for what felt like hours. It was almost a novel experience for Logan—he was used to moving fast, to getting naked as quickly as possible and going at it right away. But they were on the third or fourth song of the record now, and they were still fully dressed, and Logan found that he didn’t mind. As the two of them rolled over one another again, ending up lying side by side as they kissed, Logan found his pulse picking up as William’s thigh pushed in between his own.

            “Billy?” Logan mumbled into William’s mouth. William hummed in answer, but didn’t pull away as his hands wandered down to the hem of Logan’s shirt and plunged beneath it. William’s hands were warm and gentle as they crawled up Logan’s back, and it was nearly enough to make Logan lose his train of thought—at least, it would have been, if he’d been thinking of something less important.

            “William,” Logan said again. At the sound of his full name, William pulled away. He lay there beside Logan, quietly panting with spit-slick lips and starless eyes.

            “What is it?” he asked softly. Logan swallowed and shuffled closer to him, seeking out his warmth and the comforting embrace of his arms.

            “You, ah—” Logan flashed William a grin, but he couldn’t quite muster up his usual bravado.

            “You know I’m trans, right?”

            William’s eyes softened, and his hands began stroking up and down Logan’s back. Logan hummed and relaxed into his touch as William smiled down at him.

            “Yeah,” William answered. “I know, Logan. Don’t worry.”

            William seemed so calm, so rocksteady in the face of Logan’s words, that Logan found his confidence returning to him.

            “You know I don’t have a cock,” Logan clarified. He watched, his heart pounding from the still-fresh adrenaline of William’s lips on his, as William’s eyes crinkled the way they did when he was amused.

            “Well, I do now,” he said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

            “That’s it?” Logan asked. The danger he’d feared had passed, but he felt his heart beating faster, not slower. “You’re not gonna…?”

            William tilted his head and frowned. His hands stilled on Logan’s back.

            “Not gonna what?” William shrugged. “I’m not an asshole, Logan…”

            For a long moment, they stared at one another. William’s blue eyes were dark in the low light of his bedroom, but Logan still saw that glimmer in them, the glimmer that set William’s eyes apart from all the other schmuck businessmen Logan had known. Logan had just begun leaning in towards William, opening his mouth to kiss him, when William slowly pulled away.

            “Actually,” William continued, and Logan watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “While we’re on the subject…”

            William withdrew his hands from Logan’s shirt. Logan whimpered at the loss of heat and touch, but then William’s hands went to the hem of his own sweater. Logan felt his mouth fall open as the pieces clicked together, and the question he hadn’t asked at dinner was answered.

            “Holy shit,” Logan said. “You too?”

            “Yeah,” William said, and he gave a single, soft chuckle. “Yeah, me too.”

            Logan watched, his eyes wide, as William squirmed out of his sweater and cast it aside, where it landed on his floor with a muffled flop. It was the first time Logan had seen William shirtless, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, studying William’s body instead. He was lean and lithe, but muscular, more than Logan had honestly expected him to be. And just like Logan, two pale, thin scars underlined his pecs like crescents. Logan’s eyes lingered on the scars for just a moment longer, and then he looked up to meet William’s eyes again.

            “You didn’t tell me,” Logan murmured.

            “No, I didn’t,” William agreed. His face flushed, and he slightly ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

            Logan tilted his head and moved closer to William, close enough to reach out and frame his jaw with one hand.

            “Why?” Logan asked. “I mean, you knew I was…”

            “I know,” William said. He leaned into Logan’s touch, but didn’t raise his head. “I dunno. It’s just, you’re Logan Delos, and what am I? Some pencil pusher?”

            “You’re the fucking Executive Vice President, Billy,” Logan said. “That’s a hell of a pencil pusher.”

            William shrugged and looked up, into Logan’s eyes. The usual wistful melancholy in William’s eyes had been supplanted by a vulnerability that Logan couldn’t remember seeing before.

            “You’re right,” William said. He sighed and nuzzled his face against the palm of Logan’s hand. “I guess I just feel like I’m out of my depth, at work and with you. I thought if you knew I was trans too, that it would be too much…”

            Logan frowned and spent a second trying to think of the right thing to say—but when he couldn’t, he climbed into William’s lap and straddled him instead. William looked up at him with wide eyes as Logan leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, still holding William by the jaw.

            “You think too much,” Logan whispered. Then he tilted his head to kiss William again. William whined, but his hands came almost instantly back up Logan’s shirt, pulling him closer into his lap.

            There was something different about William now—it was as though, now that he had nothing to hide, he’d found some edge of confidence that Logan was thrilled to discover. William kissed him hard, biting and tugging at his lip, and his nails dug into the soft skin of Logan’s back to grip him. Logan gave a shameless whimper and rocked his hips forward into William’s lap. William growled under his breath and pushed back, and the motion reminded Logan of something else.

            “Hey,” he panted, too desperate to pull away from the kiss. “Your arm scar—”

            “Yeah,” William answered. “It’s from bottom surgery.”

            Logan whined and nodded as he pressed back down against William’s crotch. Now that he was really focused on it, there was a solid weight there that he hadn’t noticed before.

            “Do you wanna--?” William breathed. Logan nodded again and pulled away to look William in the eyes.

            “Fuck me,” he said.

            “Yes, sir,” William said with a grin. Logan managed a breathless laugh as William moved his hands down to the hem of Logan’s shirt again and pulled it up his torso. Logan released his grip on William and raised his arms for William to finish removing the shirt. As William tossed Logan’s shirt aside, Logan arched his neck and leaned back above him, watching William with a smirk. William kept his eyes on Logan’s as he returned his hands to his sides, skating them up and down Logan’s torso, his long fingertips grazing Logan’s ribs. Logan shivered lightly beneath William’s touch and moved his hands back to William’s body, where they quickly roved down William’s chest to the waistband of his jeans. William lifted his hands and looked up at Logan with a quirked eyebrow.

            “Eager, huh?” he asked. He gently nudged Logan off of him. Logan pouted, but obliged, climbing out of William’s lap to free him up. He took the opportunity to begin peeling off his own pants while William removed his. Logan had just shucked his pants to the floor and begun to ditch his boxers, too, when he suddenly felt William’s hands on his, stilling them. Logan looked over to see William staring at him and wearing a slight smile.

            “Let me?”

            Logan nodded slowly and scooted closer to William. This time, William rolled on top of Logan, pinning him to the mattress on his back. William hovered over him for just a moment, staring down at Logan with a hungry light in his eyes, and then he plunged down to kiss Logan. Logan whined and opened his mouth for William, and as their tongues pushed and mingled against each other, Logan felt the light, spidery touch of William’s fingers take his underwear and begin pulling them downwards. Logan shuddered and raised his hips for William, enough for William to get the boxers low enough for Logan to kick them off. Left completely naked, Logan whined and arched his hips upwards, grazing himself against the bulge in William’s boxers.

            “Not fair,” Logan mumbled into William’s mouth. “Wanna feel you too, Billy…”

            “Do you?” William asked. Logan nodded, and William answered him with a nip at his bottom lip. Logan had just reached up to grab onto William’s shoulder blades when he felt William’s hands at his hips again, gently pushing his thighs apart. Logan eagerly opened his legs wider for William, and when he was rewarded with the feeling of William’s fingers teasing at his entrance, Logan broke from the kiss and moaned. He opened his eyes to look up at William, who was watching him with that piercing stare of his.

            “You know,” Logan started, but he trailed off into another low moan as William’s fingers moved to his clit and began rubbing it. Still, hips twitching in time with William’s hand, he continued, “n-not that I’m complaining, but I-I meant your cock…”

            William laughed and leaned down to kiss Logan’s neck. He bit down gently on Logan’s throat, before pulling away to give him a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

            “I know what you meant.”

            “Tease,” Logan panted, as he canted his hips upwards to grind on William’s hand.

            “You like it.”

            Logan didn’t have a witty retort to that—and even if he did, William was right. Logan tightened his grip on William’s shoulders and tugged, trying either to pull himself closer to William or pull William down to him. When William didn’t give, Logan pouted and batted his eyes up at him.

            “Billyyyyyy…”

            William laughed and shook his head, his messy hair falling forward into his eyes.

            “Jesus Christ, Logan. Okay.”

            William pulled back his hand from between Logan’s legs, and the only thing that kept Logan from complaining about that too was the sight of that hand moving to William’s waistband. William straightened up above Logan as he pulled down his underwear, and Logan watched shamelessly. When William’s cock came free of its cotton prison, Logan tilted his head as he studied it. It didn’t look like a cis man’s cock, but it was well-shaped and there were no scars that Logan could see—and the size left nothing to complain about, either.

            “Damn,” Logan murmured, his eyes flickering up to meet William’s. “When did you get it done?”

            “Back in ’27,” William answered. He tilted his head as he finished undressing and tossed his boxers aside. “Why?”

            Logan shrugged and reached out one hand. He hesitated, but when William nodded, Logan gently wrapped his hand around William’s cock and gave it a gentle, exploratory stroke.

            “They didn’t look this good back when I transitioned,” Logan explained.

            “Well, thank you,” William said. Logan looked up to see him wearing that fond smile again, his eyes crinkled in happiness. Logan smiled back up at him and moved to pull him back downwards with his free hand, the other still stroking William’s cock.

            “Hope it feels as good as it looks,” Logan purred, and William laughed as he kissed Logan again.

            “Don’t you worry, Logan. I’ll take good care of you.”

            As William sank down to the mattress, he pulled Logan over with him, leaving Logan the one on top again.

            “Do you need lube?” William asked. Logan nodded, his chest heaving. William tilted his head in the direction of his nightstand and said, “First drawer. Condoms are there, too, if you don’t mind.”

            Loath as he was to leave William’s grasp, Logan leaned over and reached for William’s nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He peered into the rest of the drawer, hoping that he might find something a little more interesting—but there was nothing except an old iPod and a few cassette tapes. Logan made a low grumbling sound of disappointment before returning to William with the requested items.

            “Thanks,” William said. He leaned up to kiss Logan and took the condom from him, setting the package aside on his pillow.

            “Can I help with that?” Logan asked. William paused to look up at him, and Logan flickered his eyes between William’s and his cock. At first, William didn’t seem to understand, but then his eyes lit up.

            “Oh! No, it’s an internal rod type of thing…” William shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. “I mean, you’re welcome to touch all you want. Feels good, but it’s not gonna do anything.”

            “Don’t mind if I do,” Logan said. He lay down next to William and popped the lube bottle open to slick up his palm, before reaching over and taking hold of William’s cock. Logan’s hand moved expertly as he resumed stroking William, twisting at the wrist each time he reached the base. William whined softly under his breath and wrapped his arms around Logan, his nails digging into the soft skin of Logan’s waist.

            “Logan,” William murmured, his eyes falling closed as he rocked back and forth into Logan’s hand. “S’good…”

            “Yeah?” Logan licked his lips as he watched William shiver and push into his palm. William was always so composed, so quiet, that it was almost unusual seeing him like this. But as he watched William bite his lip and give another soft groan, Logan decided he liked seeing William this way quite a lot. So much so that he’d almost forgotten his own need—until William suddenly jerked and cried out as Logan’s thumb stroked over his head, and Logan felt himself throb in response.

            “H-hey, Billy,” Logan said, his voice low and husky in its urgency. William opened his eyes and looked back up at Logan with a dazed expression.

            “Huh?”

            Logan shifted his grip to William’s side and pulled, rolling them over so William lay on top of him. The feeling of William’s skin covering Logan’s, flushed and warm, shot a rush of embers straight to his stomach. Logan raised his hips and ground against William again, moaning as their cocks rubbed against each other.

            “Need you,” Logan said. “Hurry up…”

            Perhaps William was feeling merciful, or perhaps Logan touching him had been enough to break his focus—but whatever the case, William didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood anymore. He nodded and sat up on his knees, looming over Logan as he reached for the condom packet on the pillow and tore it open. While William erected his cock and began rolling on the condom, Logan groped around on the mattress until he found the bottle of lube again.

            “Can I--?” Logan asked, already opening the bottle and slicking up his fingers. William nodded back down at him.

            “Sure,” William answered, before returning his attention to the condom. Logan shifted beneath him until he had enough room to maneuver, and then he pressed his first two fingers inside himself. The motion was slow and careful, more to lube himself up than anything else, but still, Logan hissed, arching his back and tossing his head onto William’s pillow. He kept at it, stroking and stretching his fingers until he was sure he’d be comfortable. When Logan withdrew his hand and wiped it on his thigh a few moments later, he noticed William staring down at him with a dark gleam in his eyes.

            “W-what is it?” Logan asked. William shook his head and laughed, but even his laughter had grown rough with want.

            “You’re so fucking hot,” he said. “I could watch you do that for hours.”

            Logan flushed as he wrapped his legs around William’s waist, pulling him down closer.

            “Some other time,” Logan whispered in response. “But if I don’t get your cock inside me right now, I’m gonna die.”

            “Well, we can’t have that.”

            William picked up the lube and slicked himself with a quick, cursory hand. That done, he leaned forward over Logan and began lining himself up.

            “Ready?” William asked, and Logan nodded.

            William stared deep into Logan’s eyes as he pushed inside him, their thighs trembling alongside each other, and Logan didn’t need to be told that he wasn’t allowed to look away. He didn’t think he could have if he wanted to—William’s eyes burned like blue comets, thrown down from the heavens to sizzle against Logan’s gaze. Logan moaned and hooked his ankles together behind William’s back in a desperate bid to bring William closer.

            “Easy,” William murmured. Even as his grip on Logan tightened, fingernails carving crescents into Logan’s shoulders, his voice still sounded so soft and gentle. “I’ve got you…”

            “P-please,” Logan whimpered. He lay there on the mattress, chest heaving, and stared up at William. Out of all the people Logan had ever fucked, none of them had ever looked at him the way William was now, like he could read Logan’s entire life at a glance. As William slowly pushed deeper, Logan cried out softly, and his gaze shifted downwards to the long, graceful scars punctuating William’s chest. Logan wondered for the first time if he wore his own as beautifully.

            “Don’t worry,” William said. As he finally bottomed out, he slumped forward with a shiver. His forehead came to rest against Logan’s, and as they looked at each other through the sandy mess of William’s disheveled hair, William smiled.

            “We’ve got all night.”

            Logan stared up into William’s eyes until he could no longer take it, and then he surged forward to bite William’s lip and pull him down into a rough kiss. Just like that, a spell was broken; William moaned and shifted one hand up to Logan’s hair while the other found its way to his jaw. Logan felt William’s fingers tighten in his hair and tug, and he whined as he let William angle him as he pleased. William’s tongue swept inside his mouth slow and dirty, like there was no hurry, like William was intent on devouring Logan, starting at his lips. Logan never would have guessed William could kiss like that, but he was grateful for it, just as he was grateful for the way William fucked him, deep and purposeful, pulling nearly all the way out with each stroke until Logan chased him before pushing back inside again. William arched at just the right angle to strike Logan’s insides like a match, and Logan broke away from the kiss to cry out over the low sound of the record player crooning into the bedroom.

            “FUCK, Billy, again—” Logan panted, as he clung to William even tighter than before. William said nothing, but Logan saw a spark of satisfaction in his eyes. He dipped his head to lick along Logan’s neck. Logan tilted his head back without question to expose his throat, and William answered his offering by biting down hard on his pulse point. The sting of William’s teeth coincided with another stroke against Logan’s G-spot, and as Logan gave another loud, desperate whine, he felt himself throb around William. All the while, William sucked at Logan’s neck until he finally released him with one final lick. Logan already knew he’d have an impressive bruise there the next day.

            “You this easy for everyone, or just me?” William asked. When Logan managed to focus on him again, he saw something dark and animalistic in William’s gaze that he’d never seen before. It would be scary, Logan thought, if it weren’t so hot.

            “Just you,” Logan answered, completely sincere. As he gripped William, Logan let William pull his head back by the hair, giving a whine of appreciation when William tugged a little harder than necessary. William growled against the shell of Logan’s ear and then returned to licking and biting all up and down Logan’s neck. All the while, he never lost his deep, relentless rhythm, and Logan’s soft moans soon turned to cries of pleasure.

            “Billy, fuck, y-you’re so—” Logan arched high off the mattress and cried out as William bit down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder. He trembled and whined, before pitching forward to bury his face in William’s neck. Beneath the smell of sex and sweat, Logan could still catch the sharp, woodsy edge of William’s cologne, and it only made him feel wilder with want.

            “William,” Logan whispered. He pulled back and angled his head to look at William, and when William’s eyes met his, Logan leaned upwards enough to give him a soft, slow kiss.

            “I-I need you,” Logan mumbled into William’s lips. William answered him with a tighter hold and another deep stroke inside him that made Logan gasp, his heels digging harder into the base of William’s back.

            “Like that,” Logan said. He swallowed and stared up at William, his eyes wide. A spark of warmth lit William’s eyes, cutting through the darkness, and those eyes crinkled as he smiled down at Logan.

            “I’ve got you,” William repeated. “You’re mine.”

            Logan nodded desperately before capturing William’s lips once more.

            “Need you,” he repeated, over and over, growing louder and louder with every push of William’s cock inside him. Logan had always been proud of his staying power, but whether it was because of William or because it had been awhile, he found himself rushing towards the edge far sooner than he’d expected—he would have been embarrassed, but he could barely think of anything but the feeling of William inside him, and William’s trembling hips and low growling moans told Logan that he wasn’t alone.

            “William, I—I need—need you—”

            With one final, choked cry, Logan came, tightening around William as he clung to him, whining and desperately kissing him as he shook. William moaned into his mouth and followed him almost right away, finally losing his rhythm as he pushed haphazardly into Logan, riding both of them out.

            When William finally collapsed on top of Logan, panting and spent, Logan whimpered and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. As the two of them caught their breath, Logan let his eyes fall shut, too tired and content even to wait for William to pull out. Suddenly, Logan registered music playing, and he realized absentmindedly that the record he’d put on earlier was somehow still playing.

            _I need you so much closer… I need you so much closer… So come on, come on… So come on, come on…_

            Logan smiled sleepily and tucked his chin into William’s hair. He fell asleep like that, lulled off by the protective heat of William on top of him and the gentle cymbal crash of the music.

* * *

 

            Logan dreamed he was standing on a beach at sunset. As the sun set behind him, the water turned the color of tar, pitching and shifting and licking at the toes of Logan’s shoes. He stared at it with panic rising in his chest—

            And then William was there beside him, standing close and holding his hand.

            “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. Logan turned to look at him, but William’s eyes were cast out to the water, squinting and studying it as though it were something that he could understand if he just looked long enough. Logan swallowed and squeezed his hand as he turned back to look at the waves.

            “Yeah,” Logan answered. “I guess it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this! It's been a labor of love, one that's been sitting in my hard drive for ages.
> 
> For anyone who's curious, all the trans aspects of this fic are medically accurate to what procedures and practices are in place right now, with minimal "stretching" to imagine what it might be like to be a trans man in the 2020s. I felt it was very important to represent different aspects of the transmasc experience, as well as the different bodies that trans men might have. I don't mind answering legitimate questions any of you might have about the topics presented in this fic, but Google is free, too-- and if you just want to say something negative about it, do us both a favor and go do something you enjoy instead.


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